


studded stars

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Jewelry, Pining, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25296079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: Hilda invites Marianne into her room to help her clean.It goes just about as well as you'd expect.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	studded stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrisonersDilemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrisonersDilemma/gifts).



Battleship assignment MariHilda pining/getting together/fluff

“I’m not sure I’m the best one to help you with this…” Marianne says hesitantly as they enter Hilda’s room. “I’m not very good at cleaning.” 

“I have seen you make a mess of a perfectly serviceable area before,” Hilda acknowledges, dumping her training gear on the table. “I actually think it’s a skill of yours, you know! And I thought, well maybe if you can easily make a mess, maybe it works the other way too. You can make a really messy area, clean!” 

“Um…” Marianne looks around Hilda’s room. It is fairly messy – there’s sewing supplies piled on the floor in one corner, next to a beading kit, next to three axes. Hilda’s closet is open, and the clothes inside seem to have been stuffed in. Marianne isn’t quite sure where Hilda got all those uniforms from, when she only has a few spares herself. There are more in a pile next to the closet, which Marianne assumes are ones that Hilda has worn this week. 

“So, what do you think?” Hilda asks. “Will you help me, Marianne?” 

“I can try,” Marianne says, a sharp ache in her chest. Even though she’s terrible at cleaning, she likes having time alone with Hilda. Hilda doesn’t treat her like she’s that strange or weird – or if she does, it’s because of Marianne’s actions, things that Hilda has seen herself. She doesn’t judge her based on rumours, or her blood. Just her clumsiness. 

Hilda picks up some of her sewing projects, and Marianne slowly travels to her windowsill, where several potted plants are looking rather worse for wear. She brought a small broom with her, so she sweeps the dirt away that is on the windowsill, and then goes to fetch some fresh water for the plants. It might not make a change right away, but she hopes that they like their fresh drink. 

“What are you up to?” Hilda asks, startling her. Marianne jumps slightly, and she knocks the plant that’s on the end of the windowsill off, sending it crashing to the floor. She covers her mouth in horror as she looks at the mess, how the plant is strewn out among the dirt on the floor. 

“Oh no!” 

“Aww,” Hilda says. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Look, I’ve got another pot here.” She digs in her closet for a moment before coming out with another pot. Marianne silently kneels to help her scoop as much dirt as possible into the new pot, picking out fragments of shattered pottery from the last pot as they go. Finally, Hilda carefully lifts the plant up and sits it in the new pot, sprinkling a tiny bit of water onto it before putting it back on the windowsill. “There we go, all better!” 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne says. “You shouldn’t have invited me in here.” 

“It’s okay,” Hilda says, for some reason that Marianne can’t understand. “Look, the problem is fixed, yeah? And I didn’t like that pot anyway.” 

“I’m not very good at cleaning,” Marianne tells her, even though she knows that Hilda already knows this. She’s just trying to think of why she was invited in here, to do a job that Hilda knows she’s bad at, because she’s helped her several times before with similar issues. She can’t be trying to take advantage of Marianne, like she does so often with other people around the monastery, because she knows that Marianne can’t clean. So why? 

Hilda sighs a little. “It’s okay. Hey, why don’t you help me sort out my beads? I was making a new bracelet the other day, but then I tipped all the colours together by accident, and now I can’t find the colours I want when I’m making them.” 

“Okay,” Marianne agrees, because she wants to help Hilda, especially now that she's gone and broken her pot. Hilda drags out a large bin, with what must be hundreds of small beads inside. Marianne can’t help but have her eyes widen in shock as she looks at it. 

“Oh, there’s a lot, huh?” Hilda says, looking at the bin as if for the first time. “That’s why I need your help!” 

“Of course,” Marianne says. Hilda has a few smaller containers, and they choose one container for each colour. Marianne busies herself by trying to pick out all of the green beads that she can see. Green is a good colour – grass, trees, the outside, freedom from everyone else. The horses like it too. 

Hilda chatters on about everything – their latest assignment, the cute couple she saw in the marketplace the other day, how some dress that she saw someone wearing was clearly made by a madman, how her brother has sent her another letter, how Claude keeps asking her questions about Fódlan’s Locket. 

“I don’t know why he doesn’t just go there himself, he’s so interested in it!” Hilda fumes, holding one bead up so she can see if it’s white or yellow. Marianne hums in agreement, not saying anything. She’s never quite sure what to say to Hilda’s chattering, or if she’s meant to say anything at all. After all, nothing that Hilda is saying really requires a response. Marianne doesn’t know how to deal with brothers, or what to say about the latest fashion disaster making its way around the monastery. Maybe Hilda just wants someone to talk at, to get her thoughts out into the open. Marianne can’t imagine having so many opinions and details and things to talk about stored up in her head. It must drive Hilda up the wall. Maybe that’s why she’s always so full of energy, even when she’s pretending that she isn’t. Marianne sees her at the training grounds, in the back room that hardly anyone uses. Hilda’s arm muscles aren’t earnt through laziness. 

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Marianne hazards, after Hilda falls silent for the first time in half an hour. 

“I think that’s what he’s waiting for,” Hilda huffs. “Then he can say ‘oh, I was invited!’ Then my brother will have no choice but to let him walk around and poke his nose in anywhere he likes. My brother is way too polite to say no to a guest, even when it’s to do with something as important as protecting the border.” She rolls her eyes. “Besides, I think that Claude would go there no matter when I told him, and I can’t have that! Claude makes this place interesting, you know?” 

“Right,” Marianne says, disheartened. Hilda and Claude are close, everyone knows that. Marianne should know that, too. 

“Okay, I’m sick of staring at these beads,” Hilda says. “Why don’t we… I know! We should plan our next steps. That’s what the professor is always saying about how we fight, right? We should know what we’re doing before we do it. Not that I think Lorenz or Raphael ever think before they fight.” She rolls her eyes, and stands up. Marianne hurries to put the last of the beads that she’s holding into their proper places before she stands as well, stretching her legs subtly. It’s not ladylike to stretch obviously, in the ways that she sees Leonie doing after most of their training sessions. Marianne tries not to be jealous of that, sometimes. 

“On the bed, on the bed, come on,” Hilda says, launching herself over and sitting cross legged. Marianne doesn’t move. Really, it’s not appropriate for her to sit on Hilda’s bed, not when she likes her the way that she does. But Hilda pouts, and pats the space next to her, and Marianne has never been good at being good, anyway, so she sits gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“You know, I’m beginning to think I just have too much stuff,” Hilda says thoughtfully. “Our school year is almost over, you know? How am I supposed to cart all of this stuff home again? Well, I suppose I won’t need my uniforms… Trust me, when I get the chance, I’m going to wear something a _lot_ cuter than this. What about you, Mari? What do you normally wear?” 

Marianne tries not to blush at the nickname, and is fairly sure that she fails. “It’s cold in Edmund territory, since it’s in the north. I normally wear long dresses, made from thick fabric, to stay warm.” Hilda motions for her to keep going, and Marianne panics slightly as she tries to think about details that Hilda might be interested in that she could share. “Um… everything I own has long sleeves,” she says lamely. 

“What colours? What cuts of dresses? What accessories? Come on Mari, you can’t leave me hanging like this.” 

“Oh, well, I don’t wear accessories,” Marianne admits. “And the cut is simple, floor length, no frills. And I don’t pick the colours, but the Edmund tailors like dressing me in orange.” 

“Hmm… orange would go nice with your hair, but it would have to be a particular shade, or you would just end up looking ridiculous,” Hilda says. She bounces off her bed, leaving Marianne unsure if she’s supposed to move or not. Hilda digs around in a trunk before coming out with some swatches of fabric, moving to compare them against Marianne’s profile. “Hmm… no. Yuck, definitely not. Okay, not bad… better.” She throws two bits of fabric away and keeps two. “Here, these ones fit your colour profile. You should keep these, and show them to your tailor when you get home. If they dress you in this, you’ll be so stunning that no one will be able to look away from you!” 

“Oh,” Marianne says. She tries to set the pieces of fabric aside, but Hilda determinedly dumps them in her lap again. Marianne decides this is a losing battle and puts them in her pocket, which is rewarded with a large smile from Hilda. Marianne’s breath catches slightly, and she looks away so she won’t give away her feelings when confronted with such an expression. “Thank you, Hilda.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Hilda says, waving her hand. “You’re helping me clean up! See, that’s two less things that I have to worry about. I told you that you were good at this.” 

“Um,” Marianne hums, unsure how to answer that. 

“And I can’t believe you don’t have any accessories,” Hilda tuts. “That just won’t do! If you go back with no accessories, and then people hear that we’re friends, well, my reputation will be ruined. People will ask you, what, that Hilda Valentine Goneril didn’t even give you any of her awesome and amazing accessories, despite you telling her that you don’t have any, and despite her making more than she knows what to do with? I’ll be embarrassed.” She’s digging around in another chest. Marianne really is beginning to question how she’s going to get everything home when the school year ends. “Here! This is perfect for you.” 

Hilda comes back to her and takes Marianne’s hand, despite her protesting. Marianne immediately quiets as Hilda touches her skin. She looks at Hilda’s deft hands, as they move skilfully to hook a bracelet around Marianne’s wrist, and thinks she may be about to pass out. 

“There you go,” Hilda says, satisfied. “Understated, yet pretty! Just like you.” 

Marianne brings her wrist up to look at the bracelet. It’s delicate, silver with small blue glass and even tinier stars threaded along it. 

“Hilda…” Marianne says. “I can’t accept this.” 

“What? Why?” Hilda asks, honestly sounding hurt. Marianne shrinks for a second before continuing. 

“I didn’t do anything to deserve such a nice piece,” Marianne says. “You obviously spent a lot of money on the parts, and a lot of time to put it together. It’s too good for me.” 

Hilda is silent for a few seconds. Marianne uses the time before Hilda takes it back to admire the bracelet. It’s lovely. 

“You know, this might be the first time you’ve ever told me no,” Hilda finally says. Marianne jolts, looking up at her in surprise. “I was beginning to think that you couldn’t actually do it.” 

“I-I can say no…” Marianne protests. 

Hilda lifts her eyebrows. “Really.” 

“Really.” 

Hilda stares at her for another few seconds. “I’m going to ask you,” Hilda says carefully. “As a friend. To reconsider. It would mean a lot to me if you accepted this.” 

“Oh…” Marianne looks down at the bracelet. She adores it, because it’s beautiful but also because Hilda gave it to her. “Well. If you insist.” 

“Great!” Hilda says, beaming. “It looks super cute on you.” 

This time, Marianne knows that the blush she can feel making its way across her cheeks is quite visible. 

“You know, Marianne,” Hilda starts, uncharacteristically hesitant. “There’s another reason I asked you here today.” 

“Oh? What would that be?” 

Hilda wrings her hands, before smoothing her bedspread out. “You know, I like you Mari.” 

Marianne blinks at her. “I like you too, Hilda.” 

“No,” Hilda says, expression tense and more serious than Marianne ever remembers seeing on her. “I _like_ you. If you’d like, then _I’d_ like to take you out. On a date.” 

Marianne thinks she may be able to fall over, even though she’s sitting down. “On a date,” she repeats. 

“You heard me,” Hilda confirms. 

“I…” 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Hilda says. “Use your powers of saying no!” 

“I…” 

“It’s okay, Mari,” Hilda says, but her smile is small and sad. Marianne lunges across the distance between them and grabs both of Hilda’s hands between her own. 

“Hilda,” she says. “Do you mean it?” She doesn’t think that Hilda would say something to her and not mean it, but Marianne can hardly bring herself to believe that this is really happening. 

“Huh?” Hilda asks. “Of course I mean it! I like you Mari, I really do.” 

Marianne swallows. “Then… I would like to go out. On a date.” 

The smile that overtakes Hilda’s face is more blinding than looking at the sun, but Marianne can’t bring herself to look away. “That’s great! I’ll admit that I may have already planned something out…” 

Marianne can only bring herself to nod along as Hilda starts describing her plans in detail. She must be dreaming, surely. The touch of the bracelet on her wrist, and the way that Hilda hasn’t let go of her hand, and how Hilda wants to be around her, wants to date her – this can’t be real. Marianne has never once been lucky in her life. 

Watching Hilda’s hand move as she talks, the animation in her expression, how her eyes twinkle when she looks at Marianne, makes Marianne never want to wake up, if it means she can spend this time with Hilda. 


End file.
